


Svanlaug and Kestrel

by Imaginos_Buzzardo_Desdinova



Category: Imaginos - Blue Oyster Cult (Album)
Genre: 1800s, Gen, permanent shapeshifter transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:22:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22824802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imaginos_Buzzardo_Desdinova/pseuds/Imaginos_Buzzardo_Desdinova
Summary: Kestrel has been at Svanlaug's side all his life, ever since his twin died during their infancy. But there's more to the little swan-hawk hybrid than the eleven-year-old realizes.
Kudos: 1





	Svanlaug and Kestrel

SVANLAUG AND KESTREL

One-Shot

(Author’s note: This is a short story about Imaginos’ and Alice’s twins when they got older. It is based on the storyline I’m currently writing in “Oh! Del Rio II: The Courtship of Imaginos”

  
  


Kestrel perched on the windowsill of the small house where she and her family lived. Though she had been born human, the first three years of her life had been tough. 

She was the second twin born to Alice and her husband Imaginos. Of course, in the early 1800s, it was impossible to know that a twin was due. And this had meant that Kestrel had not been born quite right. Her right leg had been twisted up wrong during the birth. Deformed just enough to not be noticeable until Imaginos had begun to wonder when her brother Svanlaug had started walking why she did not follow, literally, in his footsteps. But by then any chance of mending the leg so it would work properly had been lost.

Unhappy for that time that she could not play with her brother, Kestrel would often sit on the floor by her mother and cry.

Then, one day, Alice had taken Kestrel outside to play in the sunshine while she hung the laundry. Imaginos had left a few hours earlier to hunt for their meal.

“Bird!” Kestrel laughed, pointing at Buzzardo. This was the first time she had ever seen her fathers’ avian form.

Buzzardo landed by her and cocked his head as if examining her. He mewed at her and she sat still, not wanting to reach out for the sharp beak. Even at her age it seemed like a bad idea.

Then he changed. Turning into her father and surprising her. She pouted at him, then looked as thoughtful as a recently-turned four year old could. Was she also a bird, she wondered. If she couldn’t walk, could she fly instead? She closed her eyes.

Alice started to say something, but Imaginos, sensing what their daughter was trying to do, held up a hand to silence her.

A moment later, a new bird was standing where their daughter had been. It was the white color of a swan with the shape of a buzzard-hawk and dark eyes. The few feathers that had just started replacing the fuzz that generally grew on a baby bird were more like a swan’s as well, and it’s tail would’ve made a bird of paradise envious.

Alice teared up as she lifted the buzzard-swan chick and carried her inside. It would be one more season before the girl could fly. But at least her bird legs both worked. 

“Why don’t you change back, dear,” she suggested. “We’ll see if that fixed your leg.”

Kestrel began to cry out in protest. She did not want to be human again. Human, to her, meant broken. She would stay like this. As a bird. And one day she would fly.

Now, at the age of twelve, she sat stoically on the leather harness that adorned her brother’s shoulder. Svanlaug stroked her feathers and whispered something to her, causing her to half-honk, half-mew with laughter.

“Hey, kid,” one of the other boys called out to him. “What kind of bird is that?”

“I never asked,” Svanlaug replied. “I think it’s in the hawk family, though.”

“Odd looking hawk,” another boy said. “It’s all white. And the tail is too long.”

“It’s cool, though,” a girl said. “What’s its name?”

“Her name is Kestrel,” Svanlaug told them.

“But she’s not a kestrel,” the first boy said. 

“It was my sister’s name,” Svanlaug explained. “When we were little my sister, who was crippled, died. We were only three at the time. My parents found the little bird when they went out and buried her in the clearing where we used to play together. They were too poor to afford a funeral, so she was buried close to home.”

As Svanlaug had never shown the ability to transform, Imaginos and Alice had never told him what had truly happened to his twin sister. They didn’t want him to feel bad or jealous. So, they had marked a false grave with a small pile of stones and told their son that was where his sister had been buried.

“How did she die?” the oldest of the boys asked.

  
“Shh!” the girl said. “Peter! You don’t ask things like that!”

Svanlaug sat on the fence while Kestrel nuzzled his cheek.

“It’s okay,” he said. “But I’d like to know who I’m telling my story to before I start it.”

“I’m Susanna and this is my brother Peter,” the girl said.

“And these are Adam and Samuel,” Peter introduced the other two boys. “My good friends.”

“And I’m Svanlaug,” Svanlaug replied. Not waiting for them to ask the usual question, he added. “It was my mother’s idea. I don’t know what it means, so don’t ask. Anyhow. My sister was very sick as a child. Mother said she wasn’t born well. They didn’t know I was a twin until she came, so her body was born a little crooked. So she didn’t handle sickness well. Then, when we were a little older than three, but not yet four, she came down with something. They never said what, but I was too little. I guess they figured I wouldn’t understand. And I never had the heart to ask them and make them sad.”

Kestrel let out a sad sound and rubbed her head against his cheek.

“How does that bird know …?” Susanna asked.

“She’s been at my side all my life,” Svanlaug said. “She knows every mood I’m feeling.”

“I’m sorry about your sister,” Peter apologized. “It was thoughtless of me to bring it up.”

Svanlaug shrugged. He didn’t feel like forgiving Peter, but he didn’t want him to be unhappy either. 

“You want to play Tiddlywinks?” Samuel suggested. “My brother Andrew has a set back at my place.”

“I’m sure your mother would love having a bird in the house, Samuel,” Adam reminded him.

“We can play on the front porch,” Samuel pointed out.

“The winks might get lost between the boards,” Peter pointed out. “Your brother would be very angry if that happened.”

“He’s right,” Adam said. “Why don’t we just find a few stones and play Duck on the Rock?”

“Now, that’s a good idea,” Susanna agreed.

  
  
  



End file.
